Extra Ordinary April

April was entirely ordinary. You might even say she was extra-ordinary (although I wouldn’t suggest it because she hated that word; she couldn’t decide if it meant outstanding or extremely mediocre). She had an oval face, almond eyes, wavy hair colored somewhere between brown and blonde, and she was on the taller, thinner side of average. People constantly told her how much she reminded them of other people. “Do you know Marybeth Lock?” they’d ask obliviously. To which April would reply by saying “no” and closing her eyes so no one would see them roll up into her head in annoyance. “Oh,” they’d press on like the dense juggernauts they always were. “Because you look just like her.”

Or, her personal favorite:

“Hey, are you related to Marie Holden?”

“Yes,” another eye roll.

“Yeah, I could tell. The resemblance is uncanny.”

But April’s ordinariness didn’t just end with her physiology. Even her temperament was wholly unimpressive. She was a typical girl: moody, insecure, and attention-seeking. She wasn’t particularly good at anything and she wasn’t very charismatic.

Now, this isn’t to say she wasn’t noticed. April was pretty, although if you saw her you’d be convinced you’d seen her somewhere before. She was also not entirely socially inept so she had friends, though they tended to overlook her quite a bit, or even worse: compare her to her sisters.

April’s sisters were incredible. Her older sister, Marie, had a generous nose and underwhelming lips but she was beautiful in her flaws. People called her quirky or endearing. And her character was dazzling. To call her a spark, would be an understatement. Marie was more like a forest fire. She burst into a room and instantly hijacked the attention of every person. With April’s older sister, there were no gray areas. She was passionate about everything and everyone knew it. She was a visionary, unendingly dreaming up new career paths and constantly discovering new ways to wear her hair.

Caroline, two years younger than April, was adorable. She had beautiful, chestnut ringlets and a charming, little turned-up nose. Everything about her was sweetly sensuous, with her feminine curves and gigantic, enviable breasts (at fourteen, she wore a size 34DD). She knew she was gorgeous and used it to her advantage (and oftentimes, to the chagrin of her father, misused it) never going one night without at least three ridiculous boys calling, hoping to catch her ever-fleeting affection. Caroline was also the wittiest girl, April had ever met, always surprising people with her clever jokes and sharp retorts. Big breasted women weren’t supposed to be smart.

Both Marie and Caroline were immensely popular in their own crowds. When April was still in middle school and Caroline in elementary, Marie would bring home stories of the outrageous antics of the drama freaks, over whom she was queen. And Caroline, though only in fifth grade, was already being stalked by horny adolescent boys. April spent her school days trying to push her way into her small clique of friends who had known each other since the beginning of time and could not possibly make much room for one more. She settled for a position in the outer circle of the middle-class cluster of eighth grade girls.

A lot of the above-mentioned mediocrity changed in April’s freshman year. She remained ordinary, but she discovered the advantages of being the prototype for all women. She began observing her female peers in every activity undertaken and then experimented with their different mannerisms. At first, she kept her examinations inside her group of friends, watching and then imitating. After carefully scrutinizing Katie’s innocent, girlish behavior, April would subtly mimic her and watch the group’s reactions. They hardly noticed the difference, but April noted a considerable decrease in the amount of swear words uttered by the girls.

After perfecting her “Katie act,” April moved on to bigger challenges and tried out for the volleyball team. She had never exhibited much of a talent for volleyball but that didn’t really deter her. During try-outs she made sure she was last in line for every exercise and, in the time leading up to her turn, learned every gesticulation, tone, and overall attitude of the most well-known athletes in the school system. She adopted Ashley Curry’s long stride, Brea Smith’s bold expression, and Alex Iorg’s irritatingly mannish posture. When it came time for her to bump, set, or spike, no matter how inconsistent or inaccurate she was, the rest of the girls and on occasion the coach would praise her. She had a spot on the A-string by the end of the first hour, which she promptly turned down, cryptically saying she had already gotten what she’d come for.

April was thrilled by her newfound talent. Where she had once cursed her ordinariness, she now realized she hadn’t been so much invisible as she had been blank – like a canvas waiting to be painted. She was a chameleon. Empowered, April determined to hone her skill and conquer every clique in the school. Dot, dot, dot.